


A Dangerous game

by ThetrueSithEmpress



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Andraste alive - Freeform, Andraste is annoyed - Freeform, Andraste/The Maker - Freeform, Andraste: lady redeemer - Freeform, Chess, Healing wounds, Mage and Templar war - Freeform, Other, The Herald of Andraste, The Maker is an asshole - Freeform, the maker - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetrueSithEmpress/pseuds/ThetrueSithEmpress
Summary: The Maker has deemed the world of Thedas as forsaken; wishing to plunge the world into chaos to destroy all that live within. Andraste pleaded with her husband to reconsidered only for his to present to her a game. Win and the lives of Thedas will be saved, fail and not only will the lives of Thedas deemed unworthy but Andraste's life too. The game... chess of course.----------------------------------A drabble I wrote; NOTE: The Maker's game started before the 5th Blight but this one shot is set at the beginning of Inquisition. So Andraste has been able to stop The Maker twice. I want to see how well it is accepted before I continued as I have a few ideas :) Thank you x
Relationships: Andraste/The Maker
Kudos: 3





	A Dangerous game

_“Please... help”_

  
  
A soft groan erupted from the many scattered beds within the crossroads of the Hinterlands. Healers pulled thin, scuttering between the beds of the injured, the fallen and the dying. Some simple farmers, workers and innocence while others were solders from the new Inquisition, trying their best to find some stability within the battle that raged in the once quiet scrub. It was hard enough to stop as a figure drifted between the gasps of pain and pleas for help. While their pain was true, the figure could sense some were surviving or healing from care and attention. No, the figure was on the path to one, one that the healers could not help for their power from far less then hers.  
  
Slender frame brushed her long white cloak against the wooden beds, the breeze pressed against the soft features that lay hidden as small locks of white bounced against her chest. Her hands lay bare, petite fingers finally found her mark, a young child lay upon a bed too big for her, her mother clinging to her small hand as she lay sleeping against the stretched cloth.  
  
Sadden crystal blue eyes looked down at the sleeping pair, hands rose to pull the hood from her head, allowing her platinum blonde locks to bellow from within and bounce lightly against her shoulders, braided at the back in a delicate way. Her knees buckled slightly as she lowered onto them, her hands pressed against the wooden frame as she rose her fingers to brush the damp brown hair.  
  
“shhh”  
  
She cooed as the child mumbled in her daze, eyes fluttered before finally closing. The child had been hit with an ice spell, shards of the unmelting ice still stuck within the child’s body and it was moving deeper in. A fire of anger began to boil at the sickening war, the Templars were no different, many here were caught with slashes and wounds of a sword along with magical, the two seemed to care less for who gets caught within their war. It was like both sides had been lost, their minds clouded to what was truly right and wrong. A pang of realization clicked against her mind. A cloud?  
  
A sigh slipped against red lips as she moved her fingers from the child’s skin, hovering it over her battered body and closed her blue eyes. Her hand began to glow, a beautiful blue flame licked at her fingertips and then enveloped around the sweet child as she slept. Her mother grumbled in her sleep only to awake with a gasp of confusion and fear.  
  
“What are you doing to my sweet child?”  
  
She bellowed, without opening her eyes, the female spoke.  
  
“I am saving her...”  
  
The flames finally consumed the girl as sisters turned their heads, the best they could in cloth hoods, some gasped and watched while other’s marched to stop this madness, their words spit like acid about the foolishness of magi.  
  
“Release that girl this moment, you abomination!”  
  
One bellowed as she grabbed the female’s shoulder, the touch caused her eyes to snap open, she rose to her feet in one fluid motion, hand waved as her pure white staff, black stone glimmered in the soft light of day appeared within her delicate fingers, her cloak slipped down to her feet to reveal her tight blue robe that exposed her arms and upper chest, as she pointed the staff towards the brattling Sister.  
  
“Touch me again, and you will know who I am.” She snapped; eyes narrowed as she watched the fear slip against the woman’s eyes. Silence consumed the once blazing market until a cough and gasp of pure joy erupted from behind her. The mage turned, lowering her staff to watch as the flames disappeared and the young girl finally rose, mother embracing her in a soft hug before crying into her child’s hair. Sodden eyes looked up; the look of fear had been changed to pure gratitude.  
  
“Thank you...”  
  
She whispered as the mage nodded her head and was pushed away by the sisters and other healers. She knew when she was not needed, she waved her hand, causing a ripple of flames to pull her cloak from the floor and replaced it against her shoulders. She smiled; happiness showed within her soft face before turning away from the scene that surrounded the child.  
  
The mage walked, passed the Inquisition troops only to stop at a voice that cooed at her.  
  
“Only veil flames can melt magical ice”  
  
Turning her head slowly, she saw a table and two chairs, they weren’t there earlier, upon one chair was a figure dressed in full black, hood hiding whatever face that spoke the words in a sarcastic nature.  
  
“Or did you just take a chance... Andraste?”  
  
The wind caught at her silver hair, the way he purred her name caused a smirk against her lips, she knew with whom she was speaking to and why he was here. She moved slowly towards the table and lowered her slender frame into the wooden chair.  
  
“You should know I deal in chances my love...”  
  
She whispered softly, causing the black cladded figure to chuckle low.  
  
“You have not called me such sweet things in many years, my blinding light. I believed you had forsaken the title of my bride.”  
  
“Indeed, I had, the moment you wish for this... foolish game.”  
  
As she spoke, the figure threw his hand in the air, the table changed to that of a chess board, pieces popped into existence and moved into their places. Andraste’s soft eyes looked down at the pieces, hers white while his black, her Queen was an imagine she had recalled from the Chantry, their way of seeing her with a crown of pure gold and her hands together as if in pray, while his King was that of a grim reaper, shadowed in a black robe much like his is now.  
  
“Foolish? You were the one who deemed them worthy of survival. I only wish to put my children to the test”  
  
“A test, like the way you clouded the minds of Templars and Mages?” She snapped as the figure chuckle, lowering his back against the chair own and crossing his arms, black spiked gauntlets shone where hands would be. As he laughed, a piece moved, black with two figures, one a mage the other a templar, fighting together as their bodies twisted in a hellish distruction. Andraste’s eyes looked down, seeing the piece move closer to the small pieces before her, she sighed softly, letting her elbows rest against the table and her fingers hug together to hide her growing worry upon her lips.  
  
“I give what they pray for? Is that not what a good creator should do?”  
  
Andraste’s eyes snapped to him, her heart ached that the one being she believed loved her, that she adored during her time at war had become so... angry.  
  
Her eyes returned to the board, she could not interfere, or she would of destroyed the two rebel camps herself, spending little time on each. She needed a hero, someone to take them both out and free this forsaken land of their blasted war. It was then, a small cry of joy rang towards the two beings, causing them both to snap their heads to the sound.  
  
“Have you heard! The Herald of Andraste has destroyed the Rebel Mage camp to the North and the Templar encampment to the west! The fighting will stop now! We are safe!”  
  
“All hail the Herald of Andraste!”  
  
Andraste couldn’t hide the smile that slipped against her lips, turning her head to watch as a white piece, a figure with a hand above and a rift hovering higher, knocked into the black rebel war and the piece disappeared in a mixture of crackling screams and sharp cries. Her champion stood tall; it angered the black figure before her.  
  
“A creator should love his children, no matter what they become. A creator who underestimates their creation will get their fingers burnt.” Andraste mumbled as she waved her hand and the board disappeared, she rose as she walked from the figure she once loved.  
  
“You cannot save them from me Andraste! I am their Maker!”  
  
Andraste stopped at his words, turning her frame only to see the scene had disappeared, leaving nothing but the broken black piece of the mage and templar fight. She smiled at the image but decided to leave it there. Her head rose, eyes to the sky before she spoke.  


_“Perhaps not; but I can sure try my love.”_


End file.
